


If They Don't Notice You, Try Hitting Them in the Face

by ythmir



Category: Midnight Cinderella
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, school au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 04:53:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13495342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ythmir/pseuds/ythmir
Summary: You’re a varsity softball player at your school and Coach Alyn has been giving you a hard time for as long as you can even bother to remember. He even hit you in the face with the dodgeball and hasn’t even said sorry for it. But then he holds your hand? What?





	1. Chapter 1

Physical Education can be a bitch.

Sir Alyn Crawford, The Coach and over-all supervisor of the entire sports team of the Academy? An even bigger one.

No, Meera, you would say. Captain Alyn is a wonderful person! He’s so big and tall and hunky and have you seen the way his eyes glisten whenever he would spar with sir Albert? And he’s especially kind to even the wimpier kids. And he and sir Leo are so fab! And he once was able to catch that horse that got away during equestrian class. And he has a dog!

Well, screw you.

Sir Nico could’ve gone and tamed Whisper either way. Plus, he and sir Leo obviously hate each other. And sir Albert is the far better fencer in my opinion. And Arthur doesn’t deserve that a-class bastard to be his owner.

Coach Alyn is an asshole and a monster. He has a mean look in his eyes and he never tells you what’s on his mind! I mean, have you even seen him smile? Even once? Not that goddamn smirk on his face, no! A real and genuine smile - like what professor Nico does!

The smirk suits him, you would say.

Well, let me tell you sister, how that smirk is gonna be fitting if he hits you during dodgeball square in the face!

Not. Fucking. Cute.

Gym Class. I can still remember it. September 15 was the day. Oh, you bet your ass I marked it. Written in bold letters in my freaking bullet journal right up next to his fucking phys ed assignment for me: SHAPE UP.

Shape up.

Shape fucking up.

That was what he said to me when he carried me into the nurse’s office. There was no trace of remorse whatsoever! No sorry, no I really apologize it was a mistake. No hey, lemme treat you to a buffet as an apology Meera, please don’t press charges Meera, I’m really sorry I didn’t see your five foot six form in the middle of the field where no one else was beside you, Meera. Goddamn nothing!

Instead, he had lectured me.

Un - fucking - believable, right?

He had hit me on the face and the next best thing he thought he could do was to start lecturing me on how I had tried to catch the ball wrong. “You don’t go to the ball.” He had said. “You let it come to you.”

If I hadn’t been lying on the bed and there was no age difference between us - and the fact that he was still my teacher - I would have tackled him and then lectured him on how to soothe a lady. Why couldn’t it have been Professors Louis? He’s a darling. Or Sir Nico? He’s always cheerful and saying the funniest things.

But no, of all the professors who could have brought me to the nurses’ office like in those cliche dramas, it had to be Coach Alyn.

The nurse had been tutting all the while, shaking her head and making sure I was not seeing double. And thank god he didn’t break my nose.

So, please, don’t tell me how professor Alyn is an adorable Coach.

Because he’s not.

He’s mean, and he trains you like you’ve got nothing else going in your life. He doesn’t give you breaks, doesn’t let you loosen up, and he will not break away from you until you get it right. He once made me swing the bat one hundred times in a very specific angle until he thought I was gripping it right. And then he made me do a hundred more, except this time he was throwing a ball at me.

I’m on the softball varsity team, and with the looks of it I just probably might take over as the next captain. But it is in no way an excuse. Sure, yeah, I need the extra attention. Sure, yeah, at least he’s training me properly, I can give you that.

Okay. Once or twice he would nod his head and pat me on the back with a satisfied look on his face. And sometimes, he would treat us to sandwiches and ice cream. When we made it to the Regionals last year, he had even treated us all to a full dinner. But that had been the school’s treat not his.

But a ‘good job’ once in awhile, would be nice too, you know. Like personally? Like teacher to student kind of encouragement? Building confidence and respect? Especially during training? When we’re all sweating and shaking and breaking ourselves over and over again?

Like now, for example? It’s just a practice match with a rival school - there had been more and more practice matches since a local competition was coming up, sure - but we all gave it everything and it was pretty close too! And I just scored the final homerun! Cheers and jeers everywhere, hugs - a lot of them from my teammates. And all Coach Alyn can give me is a nod and that insufferable smirk.

At least sir Leo was there to cheer with the rest of us. He even high-fived some of the benchwarmers for crying out loud! The better and handsomer twin, in my opinion.

“Coach Alyn giving you the cold shoulder again?” Odette, or Ode for short, squeezes my shoulder, seeing the pout my lips were beginning to form.

“When does he not?” I chide back. Then I shake my head. “Like, whatever, you know. I don’t need his encouragement.”

“You do look like you need it.” Ode laughs at my expression, which was between murderous and incredulous, slapping me hard on the back before winking. “We’re gonna grab snacks. Captain’s treat! You coming with?”

I open my mouth to say yes, but a voice shouts and decides the rest of the afternoon for me.

“Meera! Come here, quick.”

I groan and roll my eyes while Ode raises her brows in mock surprise.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I said and Ode nods, waving at me as I half-jog half-drag my ass to where Coach Alyn was standing with the other school’s coach. I wait while they talk about something and then Coach Alyn shakes the man’s hands before turning to me. He regards me in silence for a few minutes.

“Your first swing was weird.” He said, finally.

I try my best not to sigh and roll my eyes. I’m not going to let his nitpicking get in the way of the warm feeling of victory. “The bat kinda felt weird. I tried being weird back.”

“And you were slacking in that second run.”

“I knew the ball wasn’t going far. I didn’t want to ruin the flow.”

Coach Alyn was silent again for a moment, and then nodded. “At least you know.” Then he began walking away.

“That’s it?” I snap around. “No good job? No congratulations?”

Coach Alyn stopped walking but did not turn.

And that did more to anger me. “I did an epic pitch and a clean swing in that last round! I scored five homeruns! Five! And all I get from you is ‘At least I know?’ Ever thought about giving your team some sort of celebratory thanks, at least?”

The surprise was genuine on his face as he turned to look at me. “What?”

“Ugh!” I tore my cap from my head, stomping past him. “Whatever.”

Great, Meera, great. Real adult right there. Just walk on past and talk back to your Coach. Great.

Except

All of a sudden, Coach Alyn holds me by my wrist and stops me from walking way too far. I turn around, more shocked and surprised than angry now, and I stare at him and he

Coach Alyn was blushing.

“Look.” Was he stammering? “All of you were great back there.”

My jaw almost dropped.

What he said rendered me speechless. I was being angry and petty, yeah but I didn’t exactly expect him to actually say any sort of thank you at all. I mean, up until now, I didn’t think he was capable of being grateful at all. Now that I was seeing him like this… it felt weird.

And it somehow made me feel… weird

“You’ve always been a great softball player.” He continued, his eyes never leaving mine. “And, well, look. I didn’t really mean to be so gruff… With you.”

“Okay…” Was all I was able to say.

“You did great.” He finally said.

“Thank you.”

We stood like that for a few moments, not really talking or saying anything. A little bit awkward, a little bit unsure. And it was only when he squeezed my hand one final time did I realize that he was still holding unto it.

“We’re gonna have another practice match tomorrow. I invited over another team.” There was the teeniest tiniest smile on his face. “I’m sure you’ll be able to win against them too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re a varsity softball player at your school and Coach Alyn had just congratulated you. Your life-long vendetta now fulfilled, your mind goes to other things and now, well, now you just can’t freaking concentrate.

“He did not!”

“I don’t fucking know!”

“But you said - !”

“He must’ve just thought it was my wrist! I thought it was my wrist!”

Tutting over the phone, and I pictured Ode walking from her study table to her bed and lying down in a huff of breath. I, on the other hand, had been pacing my room non-stop ever since I called her and told her what happened.

“It was probably a mistake.” I finally declared, stopping in my tracks, running my hand in my hair. “I mean, he’s a jerk. He probably didn’t notice he was actually holding my hand. I should sue for sexual harrassment!”

“But he congratulated you, didn’t he?”

Silence on my end.

And I remembered how he had tugged at me, how the sun had reflected off his eyes as he looked at me, at how his hand felt warm and comforting, how he had smiled and the way his eyelids fluttered -

“I should sue.” I repeat to myself through gritted teeth.

Ode laughed on the other end. “You always go on yapping about how Coach never even gives you a word of thanks and now that he has, you shrivel up.”

“I’m not shrivelling up!” I screech, turning around wildly, as if Ode was just in the room and I had to turn around to emphasize my point. “I’m protecting my fucking rights!”

She snorted. “You need to calm down, is what.”

I sighed.

“It just… felt weird.” I admitted.

“Which part? That you’re agonizing about something so trivial?” Ode laughed and I wished I could reach out and smack her at the back of her head.

“You should have seen his face!”

“Dreamy, I know.”

“You’re not taking me seriously.”

“Oh. Did you wanted me to tweet about this or -?”

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

“Meera, love, your Coach said congratulations and thank you. Nothing more and nothing less. Shouldn’t we be, like, celebrating your success? You practically fantasized about this day!”

I groaned, closing my eyes with my hand, and all I could see was him.

And all I could think of was him.

“Dammit.” I hissed.

“Gotta go, love,” Ode then said, “Need to finish up that lit assignment, remember?”

“Yeah, sure. Some friend you are.”

“Love you, too.” A beep and the line went dead.

I sighed again, deeper this time, before throwing myself unto my bed. I rolled over until I felt nauseous, trying my best to mentally kick away that one thought that had been pervasive the entire afternoon.

No.

I’d been practically begging for this day to come, for Coach Alyn to look me in the eye and say Nice, Meera, you’re pretty darn good, Meera, you play really well, Meera. Okay, he didn’t exactly say those things but the point is, I should be bouncing up and down and telling him to suck it and not blushing like a goddamn schoolgirl.

I huffed my thoughts away, jerking my head up and looking across the room to where my mirror was and sure enough, the warmth I felt on my cheeks was not something I was making up.

What the ever loving hell was wrong with me?

Classes the following day were practically a blur and before I could even figure out how I should act when I see Coach Alyn again, the bells had rung, signalling the end of the day and the start of club activities. Half my mind was racing with thoughts of skipping practice. The other half, the more rational and logical side which I was completely banking on that day, told me to suck it and just go.

Ode was probably right. Or rather, Ode was right, no doubt about it. I should be neck-deep in gloat, not agonizing over the fact that my heart was sputtering whenever I remembered Coach Alyn. It didn’t make sense.

I stand up from my seat, one hand clenched, the other grabbing my gym bag. I march my way to the lockers, teeth-gritted, my mind bent thing on one thing and one thing only: act normal, it was nothing. It’s supposed to be nothing.

“You look like you’re about to murder someone.” Ode noted, seeing my face as I emerged from the lockers. “You’re gonna scare the rest of ‘em.”

I rub my face, hoping to relax my muscles into a better smile.

Ode only grimaced. “Yeah. Not working.”

We walked towards the field together, Ode chatting away about something a first year said, me not really listening and instead focusing on acting completely and utterly normal. Normal Meera. Sassy Meera. Vice-captain and beloved by her teammates Meera. The Meera who’s irrevocably unperturbed by the fact that yesterday, as the sun was setting and giving off a blush of orange on everything it touched, Coach Alyn had reached out towards me and -

“You look like you’re about to murder someone.” A chuckle then a flick on my forehead which made me yelp and look up and see

Coach Alyn smiling down at me, his eyes the kindest I’ve ever seen them

And I scowled. “My head is in the game.”

“Good.” Coach Alyn ruffled my hair before turning to the others and shouting something about pairing up and doing warm-ups. I turned on my heel, trying to get away as fast as I can from his immediate vicinity because the thudding in my chest wasn’t normal, because the warm cheeks I could feel wasn’t normal.

Ode grabbed me by my arm, eyes wide, brows raised, and her entire face just not cooperating with hiding the laugh that was bursting out of her. “Seriously?”

“What?” I half-yelled, yanking my arm away and getting in line with the rest of the team, positioning myself at the back, very much far away from Coach Alyn whom I just knew was looking at my direction.

“Where’s the gloat? Where’s the acting normal? Where’s the I’ll-show-him-he-needs-to-give-me-a-massage-every-time-my-bat-hits-the-ball-attitude?”

I blew out air through gritted teeth and paired up with a first year who was quaking in her shoes at the sight of me.

Even warm-ups were a blur. Before I knew it, the team from the other school had arrived. Pleasantries were exchanged, the teams taking their places in the separate benches. The first pitch was thrown and then the second and then it was my turn.

The gameplay today was simple: crush them early and make sure they don’t get to hit any of the pitches after. Nice. I like it. It was in tune with my murderous intent the entire day.

I breath in and out, gripping the metal bat with both hands. Discreet signals were given by the pitcher and I ignored them, keeping my eye on the ball. No matter what happens, you keep your eyes at the ball. However, at the corner of my eye, I see one of the second years arrive late with sir Leo, and Coach Alyn giving both of them an earful and then

The first pitch happened and I didn’t see it and I gaped.

What the fuck?

I didn’t usually miss balls like that.

Groans came from teammates and I could see Ode trying to hide a discreet laugh. She probably knew the reason why I had missed, and for the first time in my entire life I hated having a childhood friend. They just knew how to read you like a goddamn open book and for sure Ode was reading through probably chapters of my life at that moment. I snuck a look at Coach Alyn and he was now watching me with narrowed eyes.

And I swallowed. My palms felt sweaty, my knees shook, and I shuddered as I realized the weight of his gaze on me. He was looking at me like he always does, I know that! But it was a little bit different too. His lips were slightly agape, his brows scrunched up in concentration. He wasn’t wearing his jacket now and the way his shirt was clinging to him as he crossed his arms was just too much - he needed to goddamn move and slouch or something. Why wasn’t he moving? Why was he staring at me like that? Why can’t he look away? He was distracting me, damn it all to hell.

“Strike two!”

More groans and my own disbelief as I nearly kicked at the batter’s box. What the fuck is wrong with me today?

“You can do this, Meera!” Of all the voices that shouted, it was Coach Alyn’s that I first heard.

I don’t need you to tell me that. I need you to disappear!

I took a deep breath, swinging the bat loosely in one hand before glaring back at the pitcher with all the attention that I had. For a moment, I thought she gulped but then again, who knew? Who cared, really? I didn’t. All I cared about was not striking out.

I inhaled and exhaled, slower this time, becoming aware of every inch of my body and placing every concentration I had on the pitch before me. I plant my feet firmly on the ground, grit my teeth just as the pitcher raised her arms and when the moment was just right, I swing my bat as hard as I could.

And then I heard the bat hit the ball with a good whomp and then I was running as fast as my legs could carry me.

The rest of my teammates were scrambling to score, racing against themselves to finish their runs. I could hear howling, giddy screaming, shouts of good luck and whoops of laughter and excitement. I ran past one goal, two, and I know I can make it to the third.

At the corner of my eye, I could see an outfielder waving before throwing a ball but I ignored it. I knew I could score three mounds. My hit was good. I can’t afford to look, can’t afford to be distracted anymore. Someone was shouting something in the background. Someone was yelling something important but I knew it wasn’t for me. I knew I could do it. So I ran. With everything that I had. The final mound was just three seconds away. Two more steps, a slide, and I knew - I just knew that I made it!

“Clear!” I growled just as the umpire raised his hand to signal that I did make it. My heart jumped at my throat, my throat then giving out a laugh that was both relieved and ecstatic. My grin was so wide my cheeks hurt. Our entire bench was whooping with glee. I fucking made it and we scored two innings already!

I look at the bench. Our Captain, Rose, was going to be the next batter and I just knew she was going to hit the ball and we could score three innings within fifteen minutes of the game and I

I froze.

Because Coach Alyn was frowning at me.

Even from where I stood at third base, I could clearly make out the way his lips were not turned up the way they should be. Was he not satisfied with something? Again? Was it because I almost striked out? Was it because I didn’t run properly? Was it because I took a risk at the third mound? Damn it. But I was concentrating - I was giving it my all - and I could tell that the third mound was worth the extra nervousness! So why the ever loving hell is he frowning at me like I cost the team the entire game? Because I didn’t!

I position myself for running as the Captain takes up her bat and waits for the pitch. I could still feel Coach Alyn’s gaze on me, his disapproval almost palpable in the air. Or at least to me it was, because sir Leo had placed a hand on Coach’s shoulder. Coach Alyn hated it when sir Leo does that so why was he not moving? Why was he letting sir Leo be so casual with him?

Why was he so focused on me?

No. Hang on.

He was looking slightly at my right.

Why would he look to my right?

I hear the bat hit the ball and I lurch forward, for a moment completely taking Coach Alyn out of my mind. I hear the screams of both teams as the Captain and I bolt towards our respective bases. I finish towards the fourth mound, a warm bubble of satisfaction filling me up. I punch my fist in the air before looking at our Captain to see her progress -

Except, it wasn’t our captain that I was seeing.

A member of the opposing teams - the catcher - was thundering at me with a mad glint in her eyes. All my instincts screamed at me to jump out of the way but I had gaped. I mean, who wouldn’t? Here was a girl, with what seemed to be all her weight and fury, running towards my direction, and all my mind did was go huh?

And the huh turned to an oomph and I was tackled.

I fell on my chest, pain shooting through my right arm and I gasped in pain. Why it had happened, I don’t know. How it had happened was even vaguer. Was I shoved or thrown down on the ground? I don’t exactly remember.

All I knew was that the catcher was screaming a slew of obscenities at me for god knows what and was throwing punches at my back. I raise my free arm, trying to push her away while panic was trying to take over half my brain at the fact that I could not throw her off at all. Her legs were pinning me down. Her entire weight was pinning me down. I yell back at her a few hard-hitting insults of my own, the ones that I’ve saved for really bad occasions, and hoped to hell they burned through her soul. But with each insult that flew out of my mouth, alarm and fear came rushing in.

Because the pain in my right arm was growing by the second/ I could not fucking move it. And that was scaring me shitless.

Catcher-Bitch was taken off of me three seconds too late by her teammates and mine. Ode and our Captain had to wrap their arms around me and pull me away as I try to kick at her and get back at her for something or other. I was growling, my mouth going faster than the time it took common sense to reach my brain, and Ode had to shush me quiet or else Catcher-Bitch’s ancestors would be ashamed. I didn’t want to shut up though. I was furious. Why the fuck did she have to tackle me in the first place? It wasn’t my fault their pitcher sucked big time.

But I was only angry because I had to hide the fear and the pain. I tried standing on my own legs, couldn’t, and then Captain Rose noticed.

“Meera!” She gasped.

I took one good look at my arm and I swayed. It didn’t look right; it didn’t feel right. I swear I could’ve fallen and hit my head and be concussed, but bigger, stronger arms caught me, lifting me up.

And I knew who it was without even looking up. I knew the feel of his arms. I knew that huff of breath. I recognized the smell of his perfume. And I closed my eyes because I didn’t want to look because I didn’t need to. Did that make sense? I closed my eyes because I could hear him barking orders at Captain and sir Leo. I closed my eyes because I didn’t want to see his face as he cradled me to his chest. I closed my eyes because he was so very close and I don’t know if I could take it seeing him up that close.

And I closed my eyes because it felt safe like that.

And I closed my eyes because I didn’t want to cry.

And I try to suck it up, I do. As Coach Alyn tries to jog his way back to the bench as quickly as he could without shaking me up too much, he makes soothing noises and tells me it’s going to be all right except I knew it wasn’t going to be all right. Because my arm was hurting and the pain was too much and it wasn’t going to be a bruise or just shock or anything like that. The pain was enormous and throbbing and way too real, and I knew Catcher-Bitch broke my arm. I wanted to get back at her and make her pay dearly but a better part of my brain was still hoping it wasn’t broken. And it was that hoping that was forcing me have tears in my eyes and making Coach Alyn make those ridiculous soothing noises and could he just please stop it because it was fucking adorable and my mind was trying to compensate and despite the pain and the tears, a giggle bubbles from my throat.

“You sound stupid.” And I mentally slap myself because really, Meera? Is that the most appropriate thing to say to the person who’s carrying you and worried about you?

But Coach Alyn doesn’t seem to mind. “There’s my sassy girl.”

And I bury my face in his chest again, grabbing at his shirt, because he does not have to seem me blushing. Then, I feel his hand over my hair, stroking it as he made those stupid noises and my heart slammed into my ribs repeatedly and

Under my palm, I could feel his heart thudding quickly too.

The nurse arrives at the field with a sling and helps me to it. Then small ice packs were produced to help with the swelling. I mumble a thank you, weakly, and she tells me that it’s good that I haven’t lost consciousness. Could mean that the fracture was small but the xrays would have the final say.

“I’ll take her.” sir Leo offers. Coach Alyn instantly bristles at the suggestion but the older twin however jerks his thumb behind him. “You need to sort that out first.”

Coach Alyn makes a face, resigns, and leans forward to his brother to say something, to which sir Leo answers, “I know, I know.” Then, he crouches in front of me and asks, “Can you stand, Meera?”

I give it a moment and then nod.

“Let’s get you looked at, then.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re the team’s best batter but an incident led to you breaking an arm. What’s a batter who can’t swing?

The travel to the nearest hospital took less than fifteen minutes. Which was good. Because I was running out of tissues to dab at my eyes. Sir Leo had encouraged crying but I wasn’t going to bawl my eyes out in front of him. He may be the suavest literature professor I’ve known in my life but I’ll be damned before I start snivelling because I broke my arm.

Still, he was trying his best to distract me too, so I’d give him that. Sir Leo kept on talking about how for sure Catcher-Bitch would be suspended, that it wasn’t right, and they’d probably foot the medical bills too and I didn’t need to worry about any of that. He even joked about how Catcher-Bitch just couldn’t take how effortlessly I hit the ball after missing two pitches. To be completely honest though, as much as I wanted Catcher-Bitch to be punished for what she did, at the moment, it was the farthest thing from my mind. The only thing that kept running through my head was for how long was I going to have to be in a cast? How long was I going to not be able to play? How long was I going to be –

No.

I didn’t want to think of that word, didn’t want it spelled out in my head because it was bad enough that my arm hurt and the hurt spread all the way to my head and to my toes and even the very inside of my guts and I didn’t like that. I can handle pain, don’t get me wrong. I’ve sprained my ankle twice and even dislocated a shoulder because of a hiking trip but all those were nothing compared to how I am right now because the way I am right now is –

No.

Please, Meera, don’t think of that word. You are not that word.

Forms were produced and duly filled in. Then we had to wait a bit for the xrays (someone slipped and had broken a hip) before I was called for my turn. All the while, the nurses were sweet and hovered around me, making sure that I was okay and that the painkillers were kicking in. They assured me that my arm was probably not too much in a bad shape because I hadn’t fainted. I nod at them and thank them but didn’t tell them of the heaviness in my chest because c’mon people, we all knew what a broken arm was going to force me to not do.

“You look like you’re about to break down.” Sir Leo said to me, as the nurse was out of earshot.

I frowned. “No, I’m not.”

“You wish Alyn was here, huh.”

Did I? Really?

“It wouldn’t make a difference.” I answered.

Sir Leo simply gave me a look and I wondered what that look meant. Then he said, “I’ve been trying to chat you the entire time about everything else. Seems like you only respond when I mention Alyn’s name.”

I couldn’t think of a proper response quickly enough and sir Leo was already grinning a mad grin. He chuckled, leaning back again in his seat, still looking at me in a way that told me he could discern even the slightest scrunch of my brows.

“He really likes you, you know.” Sir Leo continued. “You’re his best batter.”

“He praised me once. Once. And that happened yesterday.”

“Well, he’s just really shy.”

“He doesn’t seem all that shy when he lists the things I did wrong.” I scowled. “Did it have to take him three years to see my stellar performance?”

“Meera, he’s had his eyes on you since you came into the Academy.”

I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it, and then closed it again because wow the painkillers sure are doing their best because I was suddenly feeling everything but my arm and I was suddenly aware of how my cheeks were burning and how I was failing at racking my brain with a sassy response. Then again, my brain had no intention to cooperate in the slightest. On one side, it was jumping for joy but on the other, it seemed as if the jump was made into a bottomless crevice and my ego was plummeting down to self-loathing because let’s face it -

“Not exactly the best now, am I?”

I see sir Leo’s eyes widen, and then I hated how he suddenly looked as if he understood. Because how could he understand how I was feeling at that moment?

I didn’t want him analyzing me anymore and I try my best to quickly cover it up, “I know Coach Alyn has been looking out for me ever since and I appreciate it a lot. I do. He’s been training me ever since and I owe him. For the training. For those kick-in-the-teeth moments he’s so good at. Just that sometimes, I want him to…”

I paused. Sir Leo raised his brows, silently waiting for me to continue.

I knew my face was redder than blood spilled on the first day of war. I knew my heart was slamming inside my ribcage like it was trying to jump out from inside my chest and do somersaults on the hospital floor. And I knew, oh for the love of everything that was holy, I knew, that the moment I say what I was about to say, there would be no turning back.

Was this how torture went? Did pain really force people to say the things they were too afraid to say? Because apparently, a broken arm seems to have done a lot more damage to my brain than I anticipated.

I took a deep breath.

“I want him to look at me properly too.” I continued, through gritted teeth, balling my good hand into a fist. “But I guess with a broken arm I won’t even register in his radar anymore.”

My name was shouted over the intercom, telling me that I was to head to the orthopaedic room now, saving me from having to say anything else, forcing me to drop the conversation and hopefully never have to bring it up again. I felt relieved. 

But then again, I also hated the fact that it was my turn. It meant that I had to see the xrays. It meant that my arm was really going to be immobilized, trapped, sealed. Part of me wanted the moment with sir Leo teasing me to stretch on to forever because as insane as it sounded, it meant that I could still pinch myself awake or even that I could relish the burning of my cheeks and the way my heart thudded with an excitement I was beginning to embrace.

But that’s just me denying reality.

Because my reality was this: my arm was still hurting despite the painkillers; my chest felt heavy despite all assurances that it can’t be that bad; I felt lightheaded and; when I saw the xrays pinned on a luminescent board inside the ward sir Leo and I entered, there was no escaping the fact that I was just going to be bench. And it struck me in the gut like a knife.

At the corner of my eye, I could see sir Leo examine the bones too. I carefully avoided his eyes even as he looked at me, a worried expression on his face.

There was a knock and the doctor entered. Pleasantries were exchanged then he took a good look at the xrays, taking his time about it as if he was deciphering some ancient text. The image didn’t really need an expert to figure out that there was something wrong with my bones and the fact that there was this obvious crack where there shouldn’t be. Then, he turned to look at us and told us that it would take

Six weeks.

Plus two more, for rehab.

Which boiled down to two months of inactivity.

My stomach, which felt like it was already at the bottommost part of the ocean by now, fell even further down if it was possible. Like it was pulled out of purgatory and shoved into hell.

The good news was, for all the pain that shot through my body that felt like I was hit by a swinging sledgehammer repeatedly (kudos, Catcher-Bitch), my right arm didn’t break into a million pieces. It was a closed and simple fracture. No shattering, no weird bones pieces in weird and awkward positions. That was all I needed to know and quite frankly, what I could be bothered to remember. I couldn’t exactly hear what the doctor was saying afterwards. My mind sort of zoned out and I had stopped responding.

Sir Leo was nice enough to take it as a cue to ask the questions for me. Did I need daily painkillers? Should I come back for more xrays? Would there be additional charges for when I come back for physical therapy? Adult stuff I didn’t need to know at that moment.

Because at that moment, all that repeated in my head was that I would not be able to play softball.

For two months.

My mind was going haywire as the dates of future games played through my head. And I was gripping the edge of my seat harder than I’ve ever gripped a bat.

Regionals would be happening in three weeks. And we have just come up and trained with the best line-up we’ve ever had in years. And Captain was graduating this year and she’ll never have another chance at Nationals if we fuck this up at the Regionals. And we’ve been preparing for that since the start of the semester. Hell, we’ve been preparing for this since summer last academic year. And I was supposed to be part of that integral line-up for our chance at the Nationals.

And now it was all going to shit because I hadn’t dodged Catcher-Bitch and I had let her tackle me without breaking her arm in turn.

Sir Leo thanked the doctor and stood up. I followed, almost numbly, my hand hurting as I let go of my seat. Both of them led me to the patient’s bed across the room. Both their faces were sympathetic. I wanted to wipe the smiles and replace it with frowns because

Two months of inactivity.

Two months of not being able to play.

Why should that be any smiling matter?

I don’t remember how long it took for the doctor to wrap my arm around a short cast or how long it took to dry and harden. I felt numb. There was a term for this, we learned this in school, except I couldn’t remember it at the moment. When you felt weird and numb and everything that was happening felt unreal and impossible. Both of them were trying to make small talk to which I could respond only with the barest of answers. Guess your teammates would want to doodle, huh? Yeah, they will. How would you eat? I’ll be fine. Taking a bath would be harder now. I’ll manage. You should buy more clothes that’ll be easier to slip into for the meantime. Okay.

“The bright side, Meera,” The doctor’s voice seemed alien, distant, the sympathetic smile still on his face. “Is that the bone didn’t completely shatter, right? That would take longer to heal.”

I nod my head, unable to answer without being angry because how could he understand?

“Another bit of good news,” he continued in that physician voice of his, checking my cast one last time, “is that after the healing and the physical therapy exercises, you’ll be able to swing your dominant arm again like nothing happened.

I nod my head. Again. Unable to answer this time without crying.

I’ve been playing softball ever since I could hold a bat in my hands. Hell, the only reason I even gave a thought to the Academy was because of the scholarship program they offered me in exchange for playing for their team. I’ve never not played softball. What if my arm doesn’t heal like they say it would? What if therapy is harder for me than most? What if I’m out of the game longer than they predicted?

Or worse, what if I never swing my arm the right way ever again?

And then my thoughts went on a loop once more and I found myself thinking about that thing that I was refusing to acknowledge. One word that if it is so much as uttered inside my brain, would surely be the ticket to this inevitable break down that sir Leo saw on my face earlier.

Yet as much as I refused to think of that word, what else can I call my arm now except that? What else can I call myself except that? Because let’s face it, people, what is a batter without two arms?

Let me tell you, they’re called -

“Stop thinking unnecessary things.”

A poke at my forehead, and I yelped, and then I looked up and hoped but no, it was still sir Leo. “They’re not unnecessary.” I mumbled. “You wouldn’t understand.”

At this, sir Leo chuckled, a heartier one now that we were out of the doctor’s office and inside an elevator going down to the lobby. “Are you still frustrated it isn’t Alyn with you?”

The corners of my mouth quirked. “No.”

“Heh. You’re an ever worse liar than I am.” sir Leo ruffled my hair and it wasn’t the same. It was off-handed, rough, almost negligently done, and I scowled, batting away his hand with my good arm and only then realizing that I shouldn’t exactly be batting at my professor’s arm now should I?

“I can give you a lift home.” He offered. “We can go back to school, too. Your stuff is still in the lockers right?”

I think about it. A free ride home would be neat. I did need some stuff carried back and I don’t think I would be able to hold my own with a duffel and a backpack now that my arm wasn’t worth shit and hurting and locked in a tomb made of plaster.

But even before I could make up my mind, another voice calls out to us. A voice that I knew all too well, a voice that had been barking orders at me since I could bother to remember, a voice that – as sir Leo said – belonged to the person who had had their eyes on me ever since I had entered the Academy.

A hand on my shoulder and I looked up and Coach Alyn was looking down on me not with a smirk or a small smile. Not even a frown, which I partly expected. No, he was looking down at me and there was a worried look in his eyes.

I feel my lips quiver yet I steel myself. “Took you long enough.” I said, and again the mental slapping. Why can’t I just say that I’m happy to see him? That I’m relieved he’s finally here?

Coach Alyn didn’t budge and for a moment, I thought he was going to scold me for being so difficult. As a matter of fact, I braced for it. But instead of scowling and telling me I was being cheeky, he hugs me and

I wrap my good arm around him too.

And it took every last bit of willpower that I had to not –

Not to what, Meera?

Bury your face in his chest? Cling to him and say sorry because you can’t bat anymore and what good are you to him now that you can’t even hold a bat properly much less swing it? Cling to him and admit that you felt scared, that you didn’t want this to happen? Cling to him and ask him to stay with you? Cling to him and cry? 

It’s my arm that should be broken. Not my brain.

“Don’t force yourself.” Coach Alyn said as if sensing the struggle that was taking place inside me, placing his free hand on my head. What is it with teachers and head pats, anyway? Was the top of a student’s head some kind of weak spot that teachers needed to constantly make sure wasn’t cracking open by itself? Was it some kind of holy centre of gravity and they needed to continuously ruffle the hair around it? Had all teachers come to an unspoken consensus that head pats were the surest way to calm a student down?

Because it was working.

Coach Alyn and sir Leo talked as all three of us walked out of the hospital. Headmaster Giles had been summoned after sir Leo and I had gone, and had sorted the entire thing out. Sure enough, Catcher-Bitch, of course, was suspended, and the other school offered to foot the medical bill and pleaded that no charges be filed against them. Apparently, I had not been the first victim of Catcher-Bitch’s near lethal tackles. She should sign up for women’s football. Or wrestling.

“Is she like, crazy?” sir Leo asked as we neared what seemed to be Coach Alyn’s car. It was a red coupe, in contrast to sir Leo’s deep navy blue convertible.

“Could you be a little more delicate?” Coach Alyn hissed, unlocking the car and getting in. “She has a temper, is all.”

Sir Leo snorted. “Yeah, like you didn’t go ballistic.”

“Meera got hurt. That’s just my natural reaction.”

At the mention of my name, I look at both of them and saw sir Leo give me a sidelong look, a knowing grin on his face. I frowned. I had almost practically spilled the beans to him earlier about what I felt about Coach Alyn. I hoped he didn’t get the hint but then he’s a literature professor. He knew how to read between lines, right?

I bare my teeth at sir Leo. He seemed to be enjoying my discomfort. Oh god, was I supposed to suffer through an entire trip back to school with his teasing because that would be -

But sir Leo was not getting inside the car.

As a matter of fact, he was standing a distance away from the driver’s seat.

“Get in already.” Coach Alyn looks at me through the passenger window.

“Uh…” I hesitated. I glanced back sir Leo, who was giving me a double thumbs up now that Coach Alyn wasn’t looking at him.

“Well?”

“But sir Leo…”

“He’s got his own car.”

I gave sir Leo a final look. All the teasing on his face was gone now, replaced by a pleasant grin. I narrowed my eyes at him and his grin turned wolfish.

Oh, he knew this was going to happen, was what the grin told me.

I shuffled to the backseat but then Coach Alyn made a comment about how he wasn’t an Uberdriver now was he? So I had no choice but to ride shotgun. I opened the door, slid in, and put on my seatbelt – all the while training my eyes to not look to my left and to keep calm and remember to breath and not focus on the fact that Coach Alyn and I were alone. In his car.

Was I supposed to talk now? Was I supposed to chat him up? The only times I’ve ever been with Coach Alyn alone was when he was singling out all my flaws as a softball player. What are we going to talk about now? Was I even supposed to talk?

“I asked Ode to gather your things and leave them at the club office for safekeeping.” Coach Alyn said after a while. “I didn’t know how long you were going to be in the hospital, so I figured better to keep it somewhere safe.”

“Thank you.”

“I also cancelled practice for tomorrow. Some of the first years were pretty shaken about what happened. They say that bone pierced skin.”

I made a face. “No, it didn’t!”

“That’s what I told them. And I also said we won’t be having practice matches with that school again anytime soon. Headmaster agreed to that too.”

“We should shape up on our tackling techniques then. Just in case my awesome batting skills anger another player.” I suggested. At this Coach Alyn chuckled and I was amazed at how it sounded.

I wanted to hear it again.

“We should probably request for pads next time.”

“And helmets.”

Coach Alyn was smiling now. He glanced at me before asking, “We can stop by for food after we get your things. You want anything in particular?”

“Uhh…” I racked my brain but it was less interested in food compared to the prospect that I was going to share a meal with Coach Alyn. And that he was really going to drive me home. “Anything’s good. 

“Burger and fries? Easy to eat with one hand.”

“Sure.” I felt my smile thinning and just like that my mood soured and I looked out the window, taking keen interest in the neatly placed trees along the sidewalks, at some kids with their heads bowed down probably playing Pokemon Go, at the elderly couple walking their dog, at anything else that forced the tears in my eyes to not continue their embarrassing descent because goddamn it I was a mess enough as it is.

“Like I said, don’t force yourself.” Coach Alyn glanced at me briefly, his own smile gone, replaced by something I couldn’t read.

“Yeah.” And I didn’t say anything else after that.

Before long, we were already parking and Coach Alyn and I made our way to the club office. My bags were placed neatly off to the side, beside the batting equipment and I could only smile wistfully. I bent down to grab at them and saw some notes sticking out. They were all from my teammates, some expressing their worry, some wishing me a speedy recover, a lot offering to do wildly inappropriate things to get even. The last was Ode’s, asking me to spill all the nasty details later because she was sure as hell going to call me tonight.

What fucking nasty details you little -

“Rose asked them to do that.” Coach Alyn said, seeing me holding the letters. “Thought it could cheer you up.” Then, he paused, looking at me closely. “But it’s not working.”

“They’re pretty neat,” I hastily answered, feeling the tears I’ve been fighting threatening to let loose again. “Cap’s been always like this and I… I just wanted to help her…” I let out a shaky breath and look up at Coach Alyn. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why?”

“Two months.” I replied and I saw Coach Alyn’s brows meet in understanding. “I won’t be able to play for two months.” I let out a shaky laugh, doing my damnedest to push back that overwhelming sense of grief again as I stuff the letters into my backpack. “So yeah… uhh… Sorry. About that.”

“What are you even - ?”

“For Regionals.” I said, “I’m sorry because I’m not going to be able to play for Regionals - ” and then there was no more stopping my mouth, “For Nationals. For anything at all – not even practice! I won’t be able to play for two months! I saw the xrays and there’s no way around it! I know we’ve practiced hard and the team has trained so hard and Captain Rose will be graduating – and here she is being alls sweet and I’m not worthy of anything and she’s even worrying about me and my stupid arm when she should be worrying about Regionals.

“I feel bad because we’ve made it this far and I won’t be able to play and we all know that she’s been pinning for nationals ever since forever and we are so close! And you even praised me yesterday even when I was being difficult. And now,” I waved my good arm at myself, “I can’t swing my arm anymore and I’m going to let everyone down and I’ve always wanted to play nationals and I feel so despicably useless right now and I feel like– !”

And that was it. There goes that word that I’ve not been wanting to use and it spills out of me so casually and with it comes the pain and the fear and the frustration and -

Coach Alyn pulls me towards him, wrapping his arms around me tight. It took two seconds for my entire body to stiffen, two more seconds for me to consider screaming bloody murder, and another two seconds for all the fight inside of me to fizzle into nothing.

You know how that feels, right? When you’ve been so stressed and stiff and just fighting for so long and you feel the push. It’s not a push that breaks you but it’s a push that tells you to let go and you do let go and everything that you’ve been holding in madly rushes out of you.

Maybe it was because we weren’t in the hospital anymore and there was no sir Leo and there were no prying eyes to gawk at us and it was just us. Just us.

So I cried, and oh god was it the ugly kind of cry. I bawled and spilled out everything that frustrated me: my inability to play, the uselessness I felt, the fears, and the maddening contempt for myself because what was I without softball? What was I if I’m not a batter? I had nothing else going for me and it could very well be that I was overreacting at a broken arm but do you understand what it feels like to have your most precious thing taken away from you with a shove and a snap of bones and none of it was even your fault to begin with?

Coach Alyn held me as I broke down, not saying anything, just stroking my head and holding me. I was thankful for that, you know. That he didn’t say anything and just let me cry. I needed a good cry.

And finally, when I couldn’t cry anymore and my bawling turned into whimpers and my whimpers turned into sniffling, and I was pulling out all the tissues I had in my pockets from earlier, Coach Alyn finally said, “You’re not useless.”

“I – !”

“Did I stutter?”

“No.”

Coach Alyn chuckled and moved so that he could look at me. I turn my head away, knowing that my eyes would be puffy and red and there’s probably some snot on my nose I hadn’t wiped – which I tried to wipe away with my sleeve because not a lot of options here – but Coach Alyn was having none of it and he said, “Meera, look at me.”

I did. And then to my surprise, he cupped my face with his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away what tears I hadn’t reached. “You are not useless.” He repeated. “Why the hell would you ever say that? You’re going to take a short break, is all. You’re going to heal; you’re going to cool down that hot head of yours –”

“I’m not hot-headed.”

“ – you are going to cool down and before you even know it, you’re back and batting like crazy. So what if you don’t play for a few weeks? So what if you miss out on Regionals?”

“The team needs me.”

“And it does. But that’s the thing with teams, Meera. There’s more than one person, and we help each other out. If Rose had been the one to break an arm, would you scold her for letting the entire team down?”

“No!” I answered quickly, shocked. “Of course not! I wouldn’t –”

“Then why do it to yourself? It’s not your fault this happened.”

I opened my mouth and then closed it because I had no answer.

“Ever since you started playing you’re always so strict with yourself I don’t even have to tell you where you went wrong because you already know it the moment it happens. Heck, the only reason I tell you your mistakes is because otherwise I wouldn’t even get a chance to talk to you.”

My heart jumped to my throat as a slew of flashback ran through my already rattled brain. “You what?!”

“Except for that dodgeball match.” For a moment Coach Alyn’s eyes glazed at the memory. “You have no idea how to win at dodgeball.”

Oh god he remembers. “A ball hit me in the face – !”

“You’re my best batter,” Coach Alyn said, cutting me off. “You think a broken arm is going to change that? It won’t. You’re still my best batter even if you don’t play at Regionals. And neither will it change how I feel about you.”

Silence.

You ever had that moment in your life when one revelation was made after another and it just hits you over and over and over and then wham, the penultimate declaration is made but because of everything that has been said so far, you’re left speechless. 

Yes, that. Exactly. 

“What you feel about…?” I swallowed. “Me.”

Coach Alyn angled his head, confused for a moment. “Is there anyone else that I - ?”

And the rest of his words tumbled into his throat as Coach Alyn suddenly seemed to realize the weight of what he had just said and what he was doing. He froze, his face turning crimson and for a brief moment, it was as if he didn’t know what he was going to do next.

And I didn’t know what I was supposed to do next. I could only feel the hot rush to my cheeks and I knew my own face was battling Coach Alyn’s as to which could be redder than the setting sun. My heart, tired as it already was with the day’s antics, was beating so fast again and anguishing at how much of an emotional rollercoaster I could take for one day without going crazy.

“And if I don’t swing my arm properly again?” I asked, a hint of defiance even as I voiced out my greatest fear.

Remember how I said that all Coach Alyn ever knew was to smirk? I was wrong. Looking at him properly, like really really properly now – his face was capable of so many emotions and it was just that I hadn’t been paying attention to him really. Or maybe I was seeing it from a different perspective, or it was because I broke my arm. I couldn’t make sense of it to be honest.

Coach Alyn looked surprised and then it gave way to a resigned sigh and then he smiled at me and cupped my cheeks again, pinching them slightly, “I know you well enough to know you won’t let that happen.”

And what am I supposed to say that? What sassy remark could I possibly come up with when someone tells you that they believe in you and that they believe in your ability to overcome what you think is the greatest obstacle ever to come into your life?

Nothing.

I had nothing. And I hated how I had nothing and I hated how I was feeling flustered. I hated how my heart slammed into my chest – it’s been slamming too often recently for any comfort – as Coach Alyn leaned forward and planted a kiss on my forehead and my entire body just lit up and I was probably blushing as much as he was and wow, wasn’t it just last night that I was being told I was shrivelling up? Didn’t I want to freaking sue his ass for sexual harassment? Wasn’t I feeling murderous about the entire thing?

So why was I feeling so goddamn ecstatic and shy and

Happy.

Because, the sun was setting again and it was filtering through the windows and everything it touched was glowing orange. And Coach Alyn’s hand dropped down from my cheeks, a satisfied smile on his lips, knowing that I was feeling better now. And perhaps he was also feeling a bit relieved I wasn’t screaming?

Because he was looking at me properly? Finally? Despite of and regardless of my arm? What had I been so afraid of?

He took my duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder even before I could protest but then how exactly was I going to protest if his other hand had ever so casually reached out for mine, tugging at me because we were going to grab dinner and then he was going to drive me home and

Goddamn it, there were details to spill to Ode after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Alyn CrawfordxMC school AU. Basically prompted by a friend who thought hey, what if Alyn was a Coach, you know? And then it got out of hand as usual


End file.
